


Meister

by taralynden



Series: Story of a lifetime [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Side story to <i>Story of a Lifetime</i> part 12: what Jazz was doing during the chaos</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meister

**Author's Note:**

> This one definitely doesn't stand alone - it's best read after Part 12 of SoaL and after Echoes: The commander.
> 
> Warnings: torture, hacking, death (i.e. Meister at work)
> 
> Originally posted March 2011.

The _Escaphalion_ slipped off the edge of the sensor screen and Meister felt a faint twinge. Perhaps this was not such a good idea. Perhaps he should have stayed with Prowl.

He shook that off and re-focused. Prowl knew what his job was, and if there was any danger it would be aimed at him, not Prowl. Openly refusing the mission might only put his lover at risk.

He went through his personal arsenal again, the movements well rehearsed and familiar, letting his mind drift over what had happened even as he kept alert for warning signs. This was not the first time he had taken orders from someone other than Curveball. Most often it was Mirage, but occasionally it was another agent. The agent had to have the right keyword when he was out in the field, otherwise it was assumed they had been turned. He had killed a dozen such agents, not knowing whether or not they were genuine. Curveball had never said anything about it, and in all honesty there was little to be said: once an agent was gone there was nothing to be done about it.

The same applied to him, and he knew it. There was some degree of comfort in that fact, in the idea that Curveball treated them all with the same level of suspicion and distance. Prowl would not approve, but then Prowl would have a great deal of difficulty with much of what Meister took for granted.

"An' Prowl's got nothin' to do with it." he growled at himself. "Focus."

The point was, if Silencer had given him these orders out in the field along with the corrct code he would have accepted them without question; without the code and the assassin would no longer be a concern. Silencer was good at his job; Meister was better.

But the orders had been given on ship. That removed the need for a code, but surely Silencer had anticipated him checking in with Curveball? He should have. So the question was this: was it a simple trap, or was this a ruse to conceal something else?

He considered the orders again. Go to a particular place, use a particular disguise, infiltrate a particular group, and retrieve a particular dataset. No indication of the intelligence behind the mission, but that was standard. What was not standard was the requirement for a particular disguise. Curveball always left that up to him, and frequently could not recognise him until Meister allowed him to. There was no reason for Silencer to have known that, but it was still clumsy, another red flag.

The disguise specified was that of a heavily armoured minibot. Unusual. Unique enough to stand out, which was why it was not a form he had taken before. The shuttle contained a corpse for him to transscan, and he had done so idly but not yet enacted the change. He looked at the powdering frame thoughtfully, then at the navigation display. He had nearly a full orn before he would arrive at his destination. Assuming he would be ambushed en route, he still probably had at least a joor uninterrupted. Plenty of time to prepare.

* * *

The ambush was dismayingly predictable. Any normal bot travelling for a full orn would choose to rest for part of the time prior to the mission, and most would do that in the middle third of the trip. The shuttle that intercepted his was running silent, just the occasional thruster puff to alter trajectory so that it was moving parallel to him, then two silent forms left through a hatch and boarded his shuttle.

Amateurs, he mused coolly as he watched them manually open a hatch in the cargo area and slip inside. They hurried straight past the two drones in the hold and paused at the helpfully open door between that section and the cockpit.

At least they were sensible enough to be cautious, but so far this was a total insult to his skill level.

It clearly surprised them to find the pilot alert and working on one of the terminals and there was a brief, panicked exchange before one of them moved ahead. The second backed off, looking more cautiously around the hold, and jumped in alarm when the door between hold and cockpit closed. Movement to one side made him spin about and see one of the drones approaching with a datapad which it offered to him. Hesitantly he lowered his rifle and reached for it. As he touched it, though, the drone followed its orders and activated the localised electro-magnetic pulse charge it was concealing under the datapad and both of them went instantly offline.

Back in the cockpit, the one who had gone ahead froze in place when the door closed, not sure what to make of that, but when he saw that the pilot had not noticed he crept forward again. Glancing to his left he saw the powdered form of the corpse and nodded to himself, then pressed the barrel of his rifle up against the pilot's helm.

"Don't move." he hissed.

The pilot did not seem to notice, continuing to work on something on the screen in front of him.

"I said, don't move!"

Still being ignored, he gave the mech a shove and then skittered backwards as the drone shifted out from under the hologram generator on the ceiling and was revealed in its true form. Spinning about he aimed his rifle at the corpse, but it had not moved. On the floor, the drone continued to tap out a looped sequence into the air. The mech opened a comm line.

~Spotcheck to Arclight - target is not here, what do we do?~

Meister smiled to himself and activated the tanglefield he had laid out on the floor, putting the mech and drone offline. Then he unsorcelled himself from his current disguise as an additional navigation bank - Primus these mechs were slow not to have noticed the redundant equipment - and unjammed the comm channels, mimicking the voice he had just heard and the frequency used.

~Spotcheck to Arclight, target acquired.~

~Really?~ the response was incredulous. ~Fantastic. Get Quartz to bring him across, then, and you follow in the shuttle.~

~Will do.~ Meister replied easily, signing off.

Honestly, this lot were making things far too easy for him.

* * *

Every mech knew that the nanites that formed the colours on a mech's armour would die when the spark faded, leaving a powder on top of the clean silver metal of the frame. What few considered was that unless some further action was taken, it took a long time for the frame itself to degrade. And that in the first vorn or so it was actually possible to clean off the nanites, use some plain old construction paint and add a few drone parts, and a corpse could be made to appear just like a mech in stasis.

Granted, it was not particularly _useful_ knowledge for most, but there were times when it had come in handy for him before. As it did now.

Having restrained his two captives in the hold of the shuttle, Meister transscanned the one apparently called Quartz and hefted the corpse over his shoulder. The one the Decepticon had seen in the cockpit had only been a hologram, this one had been shoved behind some crates for this eventuality.

Pushing off from the hatch, he drifted in empty space from one shuttle to the other and inside. He had not been sure from a distance, but now he smiled to himself as he arrived: the shuttle was no more sentient than his own. That made everything a lot easier. Putting the corpse down, he looked up to see a wary-looking flier watching from the door.

"You're sure he's offline?"

The voice was the same as on the comm.

"He's out. And the bindings'll keep him still."

The flier approached cautiously, rifle still held tightly and aimed at the offline prisoner, nudging the form with the barrel.

"He doesn't look like much. You're sure this is him?"

"This is who was on board. And he was supposed to be able to change his appearance, right?"

"Okay. Well the charges are planted, so lets get going."

Arclight headed towards the door and Meister made a choice. He could stay on board here and try to dig out information or follow Arclight back and interrogate his three prisoners. No real problem making that decision.

"Sure. I'm right behind you."

* * *

Meister onlined and assessed his surroundings carefully before showing any sign of wakefulness. Sensing everything was still in place, he onlined his optics and looked at the monitor. His three captives were all still well restrained, though none of them were offline any longer. Spotcheck had managed to bend his ankles out of shape in a good attempt to free himself, but it had not worked and he was now likely in a lot of pain. The best candidate to begin with, then.

Rising from his seat, Meister stretched. Changing form so often in such a short span was not clever, his body was aching and his plating kept wanting to rearrange itself. He ignored the desire, all too familiar with it, and took a moment settle into the form he had selected for this next phase. It was one he had first scanned a long time ago and had not often used. Not that it mattered terribly much because these three were not going to make it back to tell anyone what they had seen but it should confuse them nicely.

His optics swept across the controls, taking in various pieces of data. They were still in orbit around the small moon where he had headed randomly after the other shuttle had exploded. That action had disappointed him. Why go to all this trouble just to kill him? Surely there should have been some attempt to hack him first? Granted, so far no-one had ever succeeded, but that was not the point, it was the principle of the thing. Still, he had to admit it might have been effective. Well, if they had actually managed to capture him, which even without the forewarning was highly unlikely. This way just meant he was handling things more stylishly.

Running his hands over his plating to align it where it did not sit perfectly flat, he smirked to himself. This disguise always caused a stir. No doubt it would this time too.

Stalking through to the hold, the smirk well concealed, he swept straight past Arclight and Quartz over to Spotcheck. The mech was bound not just with energon restraints but also high-tensile polymer ropes that were strategically placed to cut uncomfortably into the gaps in his outer armour. The more he struggled, the deeper those ropes would dig, and right now he seemed quite desperate.

"Need some help?" Meister asked.

Spotcheck began to snarl, then gaped at him.

"Who... who are you?"

"Don't be a fool." Quartz growled. "It's Meister, it's gotta be."

"But there're no femmes on board for him to scan! Are there?"

"Which means Meister's really a femme?" Arclight gasped.

Meister looked at each of them in turn, and saw genuine fear on Quartz's faceplates. He had figured out what it would mean if they were getting to see Meister's true form. Which, actually, they weren't but there was no reason to correct them.

Leaning over daintily, he grabbed a handful of the ropes just over a particular knot, and began to drag Spotcheck behind some crates.

"Excuse us, mechs, but Spotcheck and I need a little privacy."

Being dragged would be painful, the ropes tightening even further, and Meister finished by flinging him into a nearby bulkhead. It left a satisfying dent but did no real damage, and Meister crouched over him, stroking the dent soothingly.

"Oops. Sorry."

Spotcheck stared upwards, his engine giving an uncertain rev, and Meister smiled, leaning closer.

"You wanna kiss me, sweetspark? Think I'd let you? Well lets see."

The mech was trembling under him, not quite sure what was going on, but started to speak hesitantly. The instant his mouth was open, Meister slipped a small capsule inside. Spotcheck tried to spit it out but it was too late, the capsule activating and exploding, filling his mouth with a thick foam that set instantly. A quick and effective gag, though not one that was easily removed again.

Meister snorted at the mech's confusion.

"Don't flatter yourself, I can do so much better than you, and I do. Oh. Wondering how I'm going to get answers out of you if you can't speak? I have my ways."

Sliding his hands around Spotcheck's helm he found a dataport. It was closed tight, and Spotcheck began to struggle as he realised what Meister intended, but between his bindings and Meister's bulk weighing him down there was little he could do. Clawing away the surrounding panels, careless of the damage he was doing, Meister opened the port and tickled the connectors teasingly.

"Tell you what. If it hurts, just say so and I'll stop."

Flicking a data cable out of his wrist, he set to work.

* * *

The information he gathered from Spotcheck was mostly useless. By the time he was finished the mech's systems were an unrecoverable mess and he had actually struggled so much that the ropes had actually severed his right arm from his torso. Not that it had helped him. For an expert like Meister, manipulating physical sensation and avoiding it coming through the connection was second nature. Besides, the lost energon just made him weaker while the spatter gave Meister an even more frightening appearance. Something he intended to take full advantage of.

Disconnecting he pressed a chaste kiss to the shuddering mech's helm, promising to come back for another round soon, and moved back into the main space. Arclight and Quartz had been calling out for awhile now, demanding to know what was going on, reminding Spotcheck to stay strong. Meister looked at them coyly, idly rubbing a dried smear of energon off his headlamp.

"Well _that_ was fun. So who's next?"

Amateur interrogators always underestimated the power of suggestion. Seeing someone get hurt could certainly make some others talk, but it could also help them steel themselves against what might be coming for them. Having it happen outside of their line of sight, particularly with long silences, gave them time to imagine what was going on instead.

Then again, a little bit of terrified screaming worked just as well, when judiciously used.

Dragging Arclight off around to where Spotcheck was lying, he smiled.

"Keep him company while I work, will you? Thanks. Don't worry, I'll be right back to take care of you too."

* * *

"Well that was a complete waste of my time." Meister growled disgustedly, scowling down at the three forms slowly greying at his pedes.

None of them had had any useful data. They were working on Starscream's orders, given to them through an intermediary they did not know and who never gave a name. Their orders were simply to try to ambush the Autobot spy Meister who would be disguised as the minibot whose shuttle he had stolen. The disguise would be a perfect match, indistinguishable from the original, so they must be careful. If they could not capture him they should retreat. If they were spotted first they should get him aboard their ship then escape and blow him up with it. If in the very unlikely scenario they actually caught him they should blow him up.

That was it. They had no rendezvous point after the mission if they survived, no explanation as to why they had been ordered to do it. The only thing of even minor use was that one of them had overheard their intermediary mention the name Ibix.

Ultra Ibix was currently visiting the _Escaphalion_. But Quartz had not been sure if he was an agent or a target, so that was worthless.

Ditching the bodies so that they would be caught in the gravitational pull of the moon - nothing worse than leaving evidence floating around where someone might stumble across it - he considered his options.

He could head home with no more information than he currently had, aware that the instigator of the ambush was still out there and would not be so careless next time. Or he could attempt to dig deeper. Risky, but in the end it was the only viable option. If he returned to the _Escaphalion_ now, the only option would be to kill off 'Jazz' and have his new persona stay away from Prowl so that whoever was after him would not know who he was. That was entirely unpalatable.

So. He would rest for a few joors; he would likely need the charge for later. Then he would take on Quartz's appearance again and head back to the base they had left from and work from there.

* * *

Meister flinched and cringed, grovelling.

"I don't _know_ what happened!" he whined for the fifth time. "We captured him, Spotcheck carried him back to the other shuttle, and then it blew up. Maybe Arclight got the timers wrong or something, I don't know."

" _Did Meister escape!_ " his interrogator roared.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't see him. Please, I don't know. I don't know what happened. He should have died, but I don't know..."

This was getting monotonous. They had already patched in and clumsily dredged his memory banks for the events. They were not particularly skilled and never noticed that his memory was partitioned. What they saw was exactly what he wanted them to see, and corroborated his story.

Still, at least they didn't just take his word for it. If they had, he might have been suspicious that they knew it was him. After all, they already knew Meister could sorcel so having a single one of their agents come back with a story like this should have generated some concern. What they did not seem to willing to believe, though, was that the great Autobot agent might not care about his pride. No role was too demeaning when it meant getting something done.

Burying his boredom deep he immersed himself in the task at hand. Quartz's defiance would have been entirely worn away by this point so he had to beg and plead and cry until they gave in and accepted him back.

Which, judging by progress so far, should not take much longer.

Fools.

* * *

Once they were satisfied he was who he said he was, they sent him off to his quarters. That might also have been a test, but he had taken that detail while interrogating the real Quartz so whether or not he was being followed he knew he was covered. Which was not to say that he knew everything, he mused as he arrived at the room and found five berths crammed into the space with no indication as to who used which one.

Picking one randomly he lay down and waited. The owner would come back and turf him off, and he would claim exhaustion, and it would be sorted. In the meantime he opened himself to the local hub and let the chatter wash over him, trusting his systems to catch anything useful.

He found his name and duty assignments for the next decaorn. A little searching found a schematic of the base so he could navigate. Amusingly, he had chosen the right berth in the first place, the other four being occupied when he disconnected from the charger and got up grumbling to head off to his post as a guard.

Feigning boredom that he had actually felt the previous orn, he slumped against the wall and glowered morosely out at the planet's tedious landscape. His fellow guard was taciturn so he did not have to worry about paying attention in that direction. Which left him free to do some proper searching for data.

It took most of his shift to program in the changes to the firewalls that would give him access on demand without alerting anyone. A rush job, but he had no intention of being in this role long-term so it would not matter.

* * *

An orn later, he roused from his doze instantly on hearing a particular word. Replaying the report that had just come through, he felt a chill. The _Escaphalion_ had been successfully attacked by the Seekers, the entire crew killed, Prime taken prisoner. Anyone not on duty was allowed two rations of high grade in celebration.

Woodenly he sat up and followed the crowds through to nearest recreation area, demanding his own portion and celebrating loudly. Externally he played along with everyone else, internally he was working hard.

Announcements like this were always partially propaganda, that was the nature of war, but how much was true this time? Prowl was not dead, he knew that much at least, but had anyone else survived? And what did surviving mean, had he been taken prisoner and they just hadn't figured out his value yet? Unlikely. Between his Praxian frame and distinctive colouring, even the most dense of Decepticons would at least check with a superior before making that mistake; Prowl had done considerable damage to the Decepticon cause and the senior Cons would want him alive.

But if they had him alive they would have announced that too. So. He must have escaped.

Meister fought his conflicting needs. He needed to finish this mission, to make absolutely sure no-one here knew the truth of his identity and to quietly take out the ones who had been involved even if they actually knew nothing. That had to be done with patience - he was not a crude assassin to leap in and just do the job, he wanted to survive this. So he must not be suspected, and it must appear to be unconnected with anything else.

He _needed_ to go to Prowl, but he rationalised with himself. He did not even know where Prowl was right now. And he might be able to do more for his partner if he stayed where he was. If Prowl _did_ end up getting captured then this was the nearest base and he would almost certainly be brought here. Prowl would approve of him taking the logical approach. The best option was to stay here.

It did not make the worry recede.

* * *

Three whole orns passed with no information other than the fact that Megatron had beaten Starscream to within a micron of his life. The Air Commander had instigated the attack on the _Escaphalion_ without permission and without support, and no matter how successful it had been Megatron would not stand for insubordination.

He did leave Starscream alive, which for him was an act of mercy, and mechs muttered amongst themselves that he must have gone soft over the flashy flier. Perhaps he had. Or perhaps he just needed Starscream to keep the Seekers under control; it was clear they followed no authority but him.

Clever slagger had probably programmed them that way.

In the meantime, Meister continued patiently with his plans. Piecing together datalog fragments and other records he was able to establish who was responsible for giving Quartz, Spotcheck and Arclight their orders, and also that _his_ orders had come from Silencer directly. That fool always used the same disguise. He only had one, and never bothered to so much as change his accent or colouration, just his name. It was a miracle no-one had ever figured it out, although in truth most of the mechs who _saw_ Silencer died within breems of that contact so even if they did it would do them no good. That was what he did.

In any case, Meister began a careful regime against this mech. For the last two orns he had been getting flickers of images and hearing static and distant conversations where no-one else saw or heard anything, and it was making him nervous. If it had happened to an Autobot the mech's friends would have hauled him off to the medics, but the Decepticons were intolerant of glitches. It was seen as weakness. Even the medics could not be trusted not to report it.

Today, Meister increased the intensity. The mech was now hearing whispers that he could not quite make out but which were loud enough to distract him from any other conversation. They came and went. Twice he saw mechs he knew and tried to catch their attention but they ignored him, and when he followed them around a corner or into a room they had vanished completely.

Leaning against a wall casually, watching the mech from a distance, Meister mused that it was far too easy to do this when the comms specialists at this base were so dense. He would never dare to do it if Soundwave were around. Quite amazing what could be done with a little frequency manipulation, particularly if one had already slipped a receiving module into the target's armour, say during a quick wash in the racks.

A figure came out of a room further down the corridor and Meister saw his target flinch. This mech was one he had just followed into a different room and who had disappeared. Timing was everything, Meister thought smugly as the mech clipped the confused target around the helm for not paying attention.

"Blitzwing, stop standing around dumbly and get to your duty station!"

"What? But I'm off duty."

"Not anymore you're not. Go!"

The triplechanger fled without further protest.

"Glitch." the other mech spat, watching him go, then spotted Meister.

"And what are _you_ doing?"

"Nothing." he replied with just the right level of suppressed insolence, long practice.

"Well go do it somewhere else. This corridor's restricted."

"Since when?"

"Since we captured the Autobot Curveball, that's since when. Now go!"

* * *

Time was up. He would have to give up on Blitzwing altogether. He did not think the mech knew anything anyway, and while tormenting him had been fun it paled into nothing in comparison to this new priority.

How in the name of Primus had they captured him? Curveball was always so careful to stay well protected, he _knew_ the Cons wanted him even more than they wanted Prime. Oh sure the command element wanted Prime and Prowl and Tripwire, but the common Decepticon soldier wanted revenge on the commander who had killed their colleagues and turned against them. The traitor. Everyone here would want their chance to have a go at him, and even orders from above would not necessarily hold them back. Not that they would kill him. No, they knew better than that, they knew how valuable he was. Besides, they would want him to suffer.

This was crazy, Meister told himself even as he enacted his hastily conceived plan and wove through the crowds looking for a particular mech. It was as much a suicide mission as any he had undertaken. Even killing Curveball would not ensure that his memory banks would be unretrievable, he would have to do more than that, and that would take time. Time during which anything could happen. If he was interrupted, if someone was present who knew the difference between a hack and what he intended, if anyone found the body he was going to have to stash away so he could take his place... Not good.

But there was no choice. Curveball knew too much, and that information could _not_ be allowed to pass to the Decepticons, no matter the cost.

The mech he was looking for finally appeared in the corridor ahead of him. No time for subtlety, he strode straight up to him and told him he had been sent to bring him to one of the meeting rooms. The interrogator argued, pointing out that he was due in the brig. Meister insisted, invoking the local commander's name, and the interrogator grudgingly followed. Alone in the room, Meister wasted no time. This mech was not expecting an attack but happened to be turning away and nearly escaped before Meister could kill him. Transscanning him, he pushed himself through the transition at a quicker pace than he normally did, feeling his whole body ache from the pressure. This mech was a little larger than him, and that was always harder to do, but he just thinned out his armour. It would make little difference anyway. If it came to a direct attack, he would not survive.

Since there was no time to conceal the body, he did not try. He entered a new sequence into the lock which would completely seal the room if anyone attempted any code but the right one, leaving them no choice but to cut into the room, which would take time. Striding out, he hurried down the corridor, glowering and yelling at anyone in his path. He must get there first. Nothing else would do.

* * *

What he found upon arrival was not good, but not as bad as he had feared it might be.

The interrogator whose place Meister had taken was known for his irritability, so almost everyone was outside rather than in the room itself. On the other hand, they were avidly watching through the camera feed. The door clanged closed behind him, locking automatically, leaving him alone in a room filled with unpleasant instruments and a mech bound to a berth. Not just any berth, though. He recognised that configuration. Even if he did not have an audience, moving Curveball from the surface or even unlocking one of the restraints would set off alarms.

Not that it had been likely, but this confirmed it: rescue was not an option.

Pulling a datacord out of his wrist, he ignored the identity of the mech before him and scanned him carefully. None of the dataports had been forced open yet. Thanking Primus for that, he glared coldly down at the captive but said nothing. Curveball glared back defiantly, and Meister felt a wash of sorrow before he suppressed it. If he were truly wanting to do this, Curveball's defiance would not stop him. And in truth, he was going to have to be somewhat rough, to keep the audience from becoming suspicious.

"This," he warned, "is going to hurt."

"Give it your best shot." Curveball spat back.

Meister reached out for a laser scalpel and simply cut the cover off a dataport, then plugged in and sent a pulse code. Curveball stiffened in shock, optics widening in brief recognition.

~Meister?~

~Take down your firewalls. Give me access.~

There was a pause, then everything opened up. Without so much as an apology, Meister attacked.

* * *

Meister's focus returned to his surroundings once again. Curveball was not a traitor, he had not had anything to do with this attack, his motives had been good. He had detained Silencer, not ready to destroy him immediately in case he was more valuable alive, but when the attack had started he quickly despatched the traitor rather than let him escape.

It was Silencer who had known Safestore's activation codes, or rather, who had deciphered them. The Decepticons had long had some data from Curveball's time in their forces, copied during routine checks. They had not known who the agents were, nor how to interpret the data. Turning Silencer to their cause had been the first step. Just like Meister, he knew all of the old deep cover agents so that he could keep an optic on them if there was any ever risk of them turning. And with his help they had isolated the data they needed.

Starscream had taken this action on his own, to attack the _Escaphalion_. He had not told Megatron of his knowledge of the ops codes, wanting to appear superior. If they had been working together, things would have been so much worse...

~Don't try to speak.~ he cautioned as he felt Curveball trying to come online. ~The virus I implanted won't let you, anyway. I'm not certain yet I can get myself out of here in one piece but you're completely outta luck, boss. They're not taking any chances: I try to move you off this table, or even just cut the restraints, and every mech on this base'll come tearing in here and every Decepticon ship in the sector'll head over here. You know how much they want you. And they're going to keep you alive here for as long as they possibly can. Bring in Shockwave and Soundwave for some proper dredging. I can't let that happen, boss, you know that. These are your rules.

~I've woken you up and I'm keeping you awake because it'll make the virus work faster. And maybe just to let you know that I'm going to deal with this. I _will_ track down every single one of the slaggers who turned on us. The Autobots still might not win but I'm going to give them the best possible shot at it. I have to. Prowl won't leave them, and I won't leave him.~

Curveball twitched and Meister began preparing to pull out entirely. He needed to keep Curveball online just for this, then put him out again. That way it would take them a little longer to figure out what he had done and come looking for him.

~Not much longer now. You won't know who I am in a few more clicks. Nasty little virus, this one, but not so painful as the alternatives. Slower, yeah, but it'll do a good job. A few more clicks and no-one'll ever be able to piece your memories back together again.~

The countdown on his HUD ran out and he sent one more piece of code then disconnected and coiled the line back into his wrist. This was where it became tricky; he had to bluff his way out of here quickly, and get back to Curveball's shuttle, the one with the navigation computer which had the path back to Prowl's location.

Curveball had been there, and now Meister would follow. Curveball had been Meister's only point of stability for centuries, but Prowl was his world now. Prowl would keep him whole.

He would grieve the loss of his boss - his friend - when there was time. Right now, he had to escape.


End file.
